1

In the later part of the 30th Century Sol3 self destructed. Of course, we were already gone. We scattered to the stars like space junk, finding homes wherever we could and by the 51st Century the planet of Boeshane was home to many souls.

Unfortunately, it already had inhabitants and unlike Sol3 that had rolled over and died, this planet was fighting back. Once every five years the fire bugs migrate from the desert area which covers about forty percent of the planet, across the lush green groves to the salty sea to drink ad put out their fiery bellies before sinking into the sands to breed and go dormant. During the two week window of destruction the domes come up, the bunkers are opened and civilization goes underground. Then we can clean up the burnt spots where some had managed to infiltrate and set fire to anything and everything they could find. We still cannot find a reason for this. I suspect it's personal.

Once every five fucking years, so I had NO idea why, three years after the last migration they were suddenly swarming like this. We had no warning. No one had shutters up, no fire bug defences in place. We were sitting ducks.

A thick gray haze turned the day outside into a scene from a dystopian thriller. This was nuts. I could only see the road ahead for a few feet. There were no taillights to follow. Nope. All the traffic on this two-lane mountain road was going the other way —down.

I was the only person insane enough to be going up. To my left, an endless row of headlights popped out of the dense smoke, one pair at a time, glowing like bedazzled mini moons. They were the only guideline I had as I drove as fast as I dared. I had to get to Grandy. And what happens when I get him?

The exit lane is hardly moving. We'll be trapped. One crisis at a time, Ianto. God! I couldn't think about that, couldn't let myself go all drama queen. This was too serious. At least once I had Grandy, we'd be together. At least I'd know he was okay. I drove on, clutching the steering wheel and sitting up straighter. My windows were up tight, and I'd turned the air to re-circulate a while back, but smoke seeped into the skimmer. It clogged my nose and my throat ached. To my right, red glowing spots appeared, back in the haze.

There were woods on that side of the road, I knew, even if I couldn't see much of them now. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! The fire's right there. It looked worst than it was, right? The Bugmen, or whoever, wouldn't let a whole road full of people burn to death in their skimmers. I brushed my hair off my face and unzipped my hoodie.

It was getting a little warm in the skimmer, but mostly it was panic making me sweat. I glanced down and grimaced. I should have worn something a wee bit more discreet for this trip, but when I'd seen the news this morning, I'd simply thrown on the nearest thing at hand before running out the door.

Nothing like going on rescue mission in a candy pink hoodie that said RIDE THIS COWBOY on it in big, rhinestone letters. Bloody Andy and his silly novelty clothes, trust me to grab something that was his without looking at it first. For a flatmate, he was a right nutter.

Never mind your clothes. Just keep driving.

I knew every bend in the road up to Torchwood Lake, every sign and weird tree. I'd lived in the little mountain town with Grandy for my last two years of high school, after my parents kicked me out.

And since starting at Obama State, I'd driven up here at least a few times a month. But I couldn't see anything today, and time slowed to a terrifying crawl. I trusted Myfanwy, my 4901 Skimmer. She would drive into Hell for me and come out like a trooper. But it seemed more and more like that's exactly where we were going. With every frantic beat of my heart, the smoke got thicker and more fire bugs appeared off to my right.

I was starting to hyperventilate, and driving too fast, when suddenly a blockade materialized across my lane. I slammed on the brakes. I barely managed to stop—only inches from hitting the wooden barrier and the cop waving at me frantically. He had on a white filtration mask. I rolled down my window. "Oh thank you to the Goddess! I'm so glad to see you. You have to help me!"

The cop made a motion with his hand. "Turn around! Road's closed."

His voice was muffled through the mask. No. Damn it. I opened my car door and hopped out. I had to make him listen.

"Get back in your skimmer and turn around!" the cop barked as I shut the door.

"Officer, just let me explain. I have to get to Torchwood Lake! My —"

"What part of the road is closed do you not understand?" the cop yelled at me all hard-ass, like some movie drill sergeant. I gaped at him. I'd been rushing around like a maniac ever since I'd woken up that morning and seen the news. Now all that forward momentum screeched to a halt inside me and despair rushed in. Oh God. I wasn't gonna be able to get to Grandy. He was going to die. I choked back a sob and put my hands over my face, trying to keep it together. Crying wouldn't solve anything, and would only make this macho cop despise me—if my pink hoodie and me being, well, me didn't already. But I was just done. I'd finally found someone who should be the cavalry, and he wasn't even going to listen.

"Oh for fuck's sake," I heard the cop mutter. "Listen, kid—"

"Why is this skimmer here? We need this lane cleared!" someone new shouted. As if I'd come up here day tripping during a massive swarmfire for the hell of it. I wiped my face and looked up, irritation making me ready to fight again.

Four Bugmen, in heavy dark coats with yellow stripes and yellow hats, approached the barricade. A gray-haired man seemed to be in charge and he looked stressed. "What's the hold up?"

"This kid. I'm turning him around," said the cop.

"No wait!" I ignored him, pleading instead with the gray haired Bugman. "My grandfather lives in Torchwood Lake. I have to get him out. Please. Please help me."

The Bugman grimaced, but his eyes softened. "He's probably already out, son. The senior center was evacuated. Anyways, road's closed. We need this lane for westbound traffic."

"Grandy wasn't in the senior center! He has an apartment near the bakery. I know he's still there. I can be real quick. I promise. And—"

"What's his name and address?" the Swarm chief asked as he pulled out his phone.

"Uh… Ifan Jones, or Ifan-Lee Jones. He's on Pine Street a block off Main. It's 121 Pine, Apartment D. He's in a wheelchair, and he can't drive right now."

The Swarm chief was already tapping away while I fished the information out of my frazzled brain. While I waited for him to respond, I took a look at the other three Bugmen with him. One guy was a heavy-set dude with a reddish-blond beard, probably in his 30s. The other two—holy hotness! They could have been brothers—dark-haired and classically handsome in that Old Sol3 Hollywood way, even behind their heavy-duty masks. Cachou. The older of the two looked away, as if eye contact with me would give him cooties. Whatever. I was used to getting that response, and I had more important things to worry about today. The Swarm chief put away his phone.

"He's on the refusal list. Jack," he barked. "Go with this young man and see if he can get his grandfather to evacuate. The apartment's on the west end of town and the fire's on the east, so you shouldn't have a problem getting in and out. But hurry it up."

"What? Why me?" said the older of the two dark-haired guys, apparently named Jack. His tone was disbelieving, like he'd been asked to pick up dog shit. The other dark-haired guy nudged him hard with an elbow. "Because Chief said so, numb nuts. And because you're the rookie. Don't fucking argue."

Jack reddened behind his mask. "Sorry."

"Just do it, Harkness!" the chief snapped. "And hurry up! You're the last skimmer through. Go! Go!"

We went, piling into the skimmer in record time. The moment the cop and one of the firemen moved the barrier, I floored it.

"Slow down!" Jack said after about five seconds. "You can't see in this smoke."

As if he had to tell me that I couldn't see. Arse. But he was right. I slowed down. It's okay. They let me through. And I have a Bugman with me. I'm gonna make it to Grandy. Everything's fine. I gripped the steering wheel, eyes straining to see the road. In my peripheral vision, I saw Jack take off his mask. I didn't have to look at him to know he was as good-looking as I'd thought. But so what? I'd known the minute he asked why me? I knew that he was one of those knuckle-draggers who couldn't be bothered with a queer like me, so I refused to give him the satisfaction of even a glance.

"What's your name?" Jack asked, his voice gruff and not especially friendly. I almost didn't answer. But he was all the help I had at the moment, so I'd have to play nice.

"Jones. Ianto Jones."

"I'm Jack Harkness."

"Yeah, I got that back there. Was that your brother busting your balls? He kind of looked like you." He stiffened for a moment, as if offended. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. "Yeah. That's my little brother, Gray. He's younger than me by two years but was always stronger. The serious one to my goofing off. He still thinks I'm twelve."

Well, you did sort of act like it. I didn't say it, but his laugh eased my dislike of him a teensy bit. At least he had a sense of humour.

"Ah. Well. I'm just glad your boss let me through. I should have thanked him. Did I thank him? God, I hoped I thanked him." I was such a mess. Jack shrugged.

"He let you through because he hopes you can get your grandfather to leave. We went door-to-door this morning. If someone refuses to evacuate they have to sign a form and their name goes on a list. That's so we have proof they were warned if we find them dead." He glanced at me. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

He sounded genuinely embarrassed, like he'd committed a faux pas. I waved my hand dismissively. "Why do you think I'm doing this? I know he's in danger. And, yeah, Grandy can totally be boneheaded. I've been trying to talk him into leaving for a few days, but he kept saying the authorities would never let the fire bugs hit the town, and that he was right near Main Street, so there was nothing to worry about. When I woke up this morning and saw on the news that they were evacuating Torchwood Lake, I tried to call him, but I couldn't get through."

"Yup. Dixie Swarm turned last night due to the winds. We had to evacuate fast."

"Is the town really in danger?" I glanced at him hopefully. It was unimaginable that the whole town of Torchwood Lake could burn down. I'd graduated from high school there—in a class the whopping size of fifty-two—and a lot of my friends still lived in Torchwood Lake. But it had happened to other Boeshanninan mountain towns, hadn't it? The Paradise fire, for example. Global warming had killed Sol3, did we learn nothing from that? It made me sick. Please, God, not Torchwood Lake.

Jack pressed his lips tight. "Let's just get in and out. Okay?"

"Not passing out false hope today, huh? I must have just missed the sale." I attempted to be flip, but my teeth chattered, ruining the effect.

"We'll do our best. The crews working on this are world class," Jack answered seriously.

"Right. Right. I appreciate that." I sped up a little even though the smoke was thicker than before. We fell silent. Jack seemed bigger in the car—all that Bugman gear and big hard hat. His hands, which rested on his spread legs in a classic guy pose, were dirty from all the Bugmany work he'd been doing. For gods knew how long. Maybe he'd been up for days. I supposed I should cut him some slack. He was right. Our Boeshanninan Bug Fighters were among the best in the worlds. Bless their hearts. I was swamped with a feeling of gratitude for him and all his fellow Bug Fighters. I was such a sap.

"Thank you," I blurted. He looked at me, confused. His eyes were so big and blue. His lips were mighty fine too—nice and full. So cute. Too bad he was on team not-Ianto.

"What are you thanking me for? We're not there yet."

"Just for, you know, being a Bugman. I know you guys have been overloaded this season."

"Oh." He grunted something and looked ahead again. "I just started a few weeks ago. But… yeah. My family's got a lot of Bug Fighters. My brothers are working Dixie Swarm too."

"Brothers? More than one?" He snorted. "I've got five. Three of them are Bug Fighters for Boe Fire, and so is my dad. And then there are all my cousins and aunts and uncles. There are so many Harnesses' in the department, we have our own nickname."

"Yeah? What's that?" He hesitated, as if thinking better of it. Or realizing he was talking to a stranger.

"Come on. You can't leave me hanging," I prompted.

"It's dumb. It's just… our last name's Harkness. So they call us the Hotness Harkness Heroes. To bust our chops or something." He was blushing. And not looking at me. I didn't say anything.

"Like, hot because we fight fires," he added.

I almost burst out laughing. I managed to contain it, instead giving him wide eyes and a little sass. "Yeah. I'm sure that's it. Hot because you fight bug fires. That makes total sense."

He glanced at me, saw my expression, and rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

I laughed out loud. "Nice try. Oh my God, that's priceless. Hot because we fight fires!"

"Shut up," he said, but he was grinning. A spray of burning bugs hit my windshield, making me flinch and ending my amusement instantly. Most of the bugs blew away again, but one large one stayed in the middle of my windshield, caught against my wipers. I turned them on and it went flipping away.

"The wind's picking up." Jack looked off to our right. He sounded worried. I could see the red of fire bugs back there through the smoke again.

"I thought your chief said the fire was on the east side of town? But that fire over there is south, right?" Jack was craning to look at the right side of the road, but he relaxed when he saw me watching him.

"Yeah. The fire jumped Highway 49 east of Torchwood Lake, so there's a flare-up to the south. But we've established a good line in front of that. It should be contained."

Should be. I licked my lips. "You know what? Kudos to you for choosing this as a profession. It's pretty fucking terrifying, honestly."

I tried to laugh, and it sounded slightly hysterical.

"I mean, it's probably hard-wired in our human brains, right? Like tiger equals bad. You sense a fire and everything inside you is like noooo! Run away!"

Jack gave me an assessing look. "Yet here you are. Not running."

I shrugged. "Believe me, I want to. But it's Grandy. He's the only family I have. Or at least, the only family that cares to have anything to do with me. And he saved my life."

Jack stared at me for a long moment, as if he wanted to ask about my family but decided not to. "Cool. You said he lives alone? And he's in a wheelchair?"

It was just a question. Jack didn't sound judgy. But guilt made my cheeks grow hot all the same. "He wants to live alone. I'm a junior at Obama State. I tried to talk him into moving down there and getting an apartment with me, but he loves the mountains. And he's not in a wheelchair all the time. I mean, he broke his hip last year, but he's pretty much healed. He can take a shower by himself and things like that, but he uses the chair if he has to go into town because he can't walk far. He's fiercely independent. He's a freaking bulldog about it."

"Oh. That's good. My granddad has Alzheimer's. So it's good that your grandfather's still sharp."

"Hell ya, he is. He whips my ass in Aggravation and Pinochle."

The line of cars was completely stopped on my left now. The evacuating vehicles were going nowhere fast. Suddenly something loomed out of the smoke on the right. I gasped and flinched. It was just the town sign…TORCHWOOD LAKE.

I felt stupid flinching like that. Might as well have a neon sign flashing "WUSS!" on my forehead. But this whole scene was unnerving. If I'd been alone, I would be cursing up a storm, pleading with God, or maybe panic crying. But with a macho Bugman in the car, I had to tone down the drama. That didn't mean I wasn't freaking out deep down in my little gay heart.

"It's gonna be all right, Ianto," Jack said quietly.

"Do you really think that?" I turned my head to look at him so I could read his eyes. I could always tell when people were lying by their eyes. Jack stared right back. He looked… kind in that moment… or at least sympathetic. Like he didn't find me annoying or cowardly.

"Yeah, I do. I trust the stations working on this—and the cops. And I'm with you. You're gonna be okay."

"And Grandy," I said firmly.

He smiled. "Yes, your grandfather and his angry arse are going to be okay too."

I sighed. He was so confident. It did make me feel better. "Thank you, Jack."

Maybe Jack the Bugman wasn't as much of a waste as I'd thought.